


Raw

by setos_puppy



Category: Kick-Ass (2010)
Genre: Kink Bingo 2011, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 07:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setos_puppy/pseuds/setos_puppy
Summary: Dave collects his thoughts after the warehouse.





	Raw

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted in 2011 for my "exposure" square for the Kink Bingo that year.

Dave hunched over the dashboard of the Mist mobile and took in a few deep, shuddering breaths. His lungs were burning with smoke and soot and he couldn't think. He felt like vomiting. He felt like he was drowning and choking. He jolted hard in his seat when a hand touched his shoulder and he turned to the side. Red Mist smiled apologetically and removed his hand. 

Silence reigned in the car as they struggled to breathe. The doors were wide open and Dave was pretty sure they should start _driving_ because someone would have seen the smoke and flame by now and they needed to move their asses or they were going to get caught. He couldn't go to prison, he was just a kid. 

A stupid kid. 

With stupider dreams. 

“We...” Dave rasped out. God, why was it so hard to _breathe_? “We need to get outta here.”

He saw Red Mist nod his head frantically and the car started. Dave fumbled with his seatbelt and they peeled out onto the street. He rested his head against the door frame as he slid the window down. The air whipped hard in his face, stinging his sweaty-overheated, exposed skin. He was pretty sure he was in the middle of a panic attack and he tried his best to keep calm. 

He had never seen a dead body other than his mom's. Even then it had been quick, and she had died of natural causes. Those guys had been straight up murdered in cold blood. And they had just been left to burn. 

The car glided to a stop behind some movie theater and Dave sagged against the seat. The air conditioning was on full blast and he was sure he would have been freezing, but he was still in a numb state of shock. 

“You okay, man?”

Dave gave a high, strained kind of laugh and nodded his head. It was a lie, he was so far from okay. A hand wrapped around his arm and he looked down at it, stared at it, before he looked up at Red Mist. The other boy's chest was heaving and his eyes were dark. His mouth was glistening and open, his breathing ragged. 

“I can't believe you just ran in there, man, that was so fucking brave,” Dave finally managed. 

“Fucking stupid you mean. I could have been stuck in there. I could have died.” Red Mist's voice was strangely detached and Dave saw him tug at the collar of his costume. 

“Are you freaking out?” Dave found a strange sort of comfort in that thought. “'Cause I'm not a doctor.”

Red Mist snorted and threw his glove at him. “No shit, retard.”

Dave stared down at the leather glove, then over at Red Mist. The other boy's hand was whitish-pink against the hard red and black of his uniform. It looked strange. It was enthralling. Dave's heart thudded against his chest as he stared at the hand, then looked up to Red Mist's face. It was the first time, in the faint lighting, that he noticed the edges of the other boy's mask had melted. They were bubbled and cracked around the other boy's eyes and Dave winced internally. That had to hurt. He clamped his teeth on two fingers of his glove and pulled his hand free. 

Slowly, almost shy, Dave reached out to touch at the burnt edges of the mask. It was rough under his fingers. He felt the heat of the plastic blend under his fingers, and the strange slickness of the greasepaint around Red Mist's eyes. He noted with a strange sort of fascination, that his skin tone was darker than Red Mist's. His hand against the other boy's bared cheek was a stark contrast of olive on milk white. 

“What're you doing?” 

“That must hurt...”

“Like a bitch. Is there any reason you're touching me?”

Dave rose a shoulder in a shrug. He didn't really know what he was doing. Or why. He just knew that he couldn't stop touching with his bare, vulnerable hand. Touching where Red Mist ended and the person below him began. Touching him with Dave Lizewski and not Kick Ass. It was weird and kind of erotic and Dave didn't know what was happening because he had never acted on the strange, latent desire inside of him that liked boys, but it was all happening and too fast and too slow at the same time. 

Red Mist's hand slowly came up and laid over his own. It was like sparks. This strange mix of real and imaginary. This exposed, raw part of him touching his counterpart. 

Then Red Mist was kissing him. 

A wet smear of lips on lips and he tasted like smoke and Dr. Pepper. This touch of who their really were. Digging deep inside of each other; deeper than they had ever gone. It was real and it hurt and it was perfect. Suddenly Dave knew more about the other male than he had before – knew that he liked Dr. Pepper and that he was fierce with his passion. The other boy knew about him too. Knew things even Dave didn't know about himself – about his taste. He was stripped bare as he was pressed back into the seat and devoured. 

Red Mist sat back slowly, his mouth was plump and shining and red, and it curved into a lop-sided smile. Dave smiled back, sucking in a breath of air as his crazy, upside down world righted itself and jammed in jagged pieces to place. Trying to fit in reality and fantasy. 

They sat there, silent, their bare fingers almost touching and Dave could breathe again.


End file.
